


Disciplinary Action

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Two Swords

The commander looked on in stony silence as the deserter was brought in by the two men that had caught him. Both of them were outriders extremely loyal to their cause, and to the commander himself, personally, and he had no reason to doubt their account. The boy, a soft-faced youth, barely of age to hold a sword and too young yet to have wedded, was thrown to his knees before the commander, without a bruise or scratch on him. Even caught in the act of desertion, he hadn’t fought.

The commander glared down at him, steel in his eyes, just as steel coated his heart and ran through his veins. “Speak.”

“I… I…”

“Ai? Is that your name, boy? What a pretty name,” he said, but his lips never curled into a smile. 

“No, my lord… what… is it that you want me to say?”

The commander rose to his feet, and the boy nearly fell back. “You can start by denying these accusations, or offering an explanation. Elsewise, this will be a short, to the point audience.” He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, subtly, but the effect was clear.

“W-wait, I can explain! I… can’t deny that I… ran…”

The man called Stal spoke up. “That would make a deserter and a liar of him.”

“The price for desertion is death. Is there any mitigating circumstance?”

The other man, named Ward, put in his word. “Oh, yes, certainly there is. When we heard this story, we knew we should bring him to you straight away.”

The boy looked to the floor. “I don’t fear battle, my lord. I am the son of a proud and noble warrior. But, the other men… I fear my brothers-in-arms.”

Flanked by the two men, the boy did look small, though he was of perfectly average height. The commander had fixed his gaze on the boy, and wouldn’t relent. “Within my camp, you need fear no man under my banners. For every bruise a cut, for every cut a lash, for every wounded, a casualty. If they laid hands on you, it would be their own destruction.”

Ward and Stal smirked. The boy shook his head, slowly. “It’s not their hands they wanted to lay on me. The men are restless, my lord,” he said, but the commander’s face was still carved of stone, and so he continued his sad, pathetic tale. “At first, I thought they were merely confiding in me that they missed their women folk, or even the whores in their hometowns. But then, they kept complimenting me on my long eyelashes, and my eyes, and my slender neck, and my soft, full lips. I tried to ignore it, assuming it was idle jesting, but a day’s night ago, two men forced me on my knees before a third, and they were too strong for me to break free…”

The commander felt something stirring in his loins. He looked at his two faithful men on either side of the boy, and tried to imagine the scenario. “Go on.”  
“They told me that I needed to ‘eat my rations’… I called for help, but no one listened or cared, and some men were watching eagerly… the third man dropped his drawers, and he was… aroused. Frightfully aroused. I begged him for mercy, but he insisted I needed to be fed… I’d never seen a man so crazed. He said my voice and my hair was girlish, both untrue, and he claimed that I had been staring at him before in the tents.”

The commander’s brow was still stern, but there was something else hidden behind his grey eyes. “And what did he want of you?”

The boy looked taken aback. “He… he wanted me to… pleasure him… with my mouth, my lord.”

“And you know this for sure?” he replied, his face flushed.

“He pressed it to my lips…”

“And? And?”

“And… I told him that if they let me go… I would do it willingly. That I just wanted to get ready first, to get properly dressed… and that I would service him in his tent each night, if he had that small mercy for me.”

The commander knew then the rest of the story. “And he believed you. Why?”

“I swore an oath.”

A smile, more teeth than mirth crept onto the commander’s face. “It seems you broke that one, as well. So you fled, before they discovered you, and were caught, and brought before me now. Correct?”

The boy’s eyes wandered. He sat comfortably on the floor, half-undressed. “Yes, my lord.”

“And so you deserted of your own volition,” he said, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, “and so the penalty is death.”

The boy’s eyes went wide and he sputtered. “B-but, I had no choice!”

“You could have fought against the men, and no man would dare my wrath by putting you to the sword. You could have swallowed fifty cocks that night, and woken up with a bellyful of pride and a heart full of honor, but you did not. You turned coward and ran. How can I trust that you would face a man’s sword of steel, in melee, if you could not face a single man’s sword of lust, safe within my camp? And worse still, as worthless as you seem to be as a swordsman, you denied perhaps some of my best warriors a pleasurable relief.”

“My… my lord!” he said, half in anger, half in misery. “I’m not worthless! Give me a sword, and I’ll fight!”

“If I give you a sword, you will plunge it into the heart of the man who meant to make merry in your mouth in his sleep before the night is done. But, I will offer you a sword… and if you can cut me once, I will see you innocent, in light of trial by combat.”

The boy rose to one knee. “I will. I will take the sword.”

The commander smiled. “I’m sure you will. Ward, give the boy your sword.”

Reluctantly, Ward pulled his sword free of its sheathe, and handed it to the boy. 

“Well? Come at me,” said the commander, but the boy hesitated. Carefully, he took a step closer, and then another, checking where he placed his feet. Finally, he feinted high and thrust low, and for a brief moment thought he’d caught the commander on the hip with the point, only to hear the echo of steel hitting steel, and to see that the commander had interposed his half-drawn sword.

He pulled back, and then aimed a rushed swing at the commander’s left shoulder, where he was most vulnerable, but in one smooth motion he drew the full length of his blade out, turned it in the air, and swatted the boy’s weapon out of the way like it was a toy. He tried to bring it back, hoping for a lucky nick, but the commander trapped it under his own blade, caught it with the guard, and twisted it out of the boy’s hand, so that it fell to the floor.

He laid the sword against the boy’s neck. “Now. Your story has given me an idea. I’ll let you make your choice once more. Which sword will you swallow?”

“Which… sword?”

“Yes,” he said, a cruel grin and a gleam in his eye, “which sword shall I place between your soft, full lips? The steel, or the flesh?”

The boy’s anger suddenly flared, but he looked more petulant than full of fury. It only made the commander want to try it more. “Do I… do I look like a woman to you?”

The commander looked vaguely apologetic. “Perhaps not,” he said, without regret, and put his sword, the steel one, up to the boy’s lips. “Open, and let this be done.”

“N-no!” the boy stammered. 

“Very well, then. While your lips are indeed full, and your hair is indeed soft and lustrous, I suppose you could use more feminine attire. You ask if you look like a woman to me? I'll leave you in the care of Kelsa. Then you can ask me that once more."

He sheathed his sword once more, and waved Ward and Stal away. “Kelsa,” he called out, and within moments a full-figured woman appeared at the door, bent at the knee. 

“Yes, m’lord?”

“This is my bedwarmer, Kelsa. Kelsa, take the boy and give him more… fitting garb.”

“M’lord?” said Kelsa. She was not uncomely, though a little aged. She had a gentle look about her, but a certain strength, as well. She was deferential, as they all were, but she looked the commander in the eye unfailingly as she spoke.

“Dress him as you would one of your girls in the pillow house. I would much like to see your work.”

Kelsa rose, walked to the boy’s side, kneeled down gracefully, and took his hand. “Yes, m’lord,” was all she said, and then she pulled him gently to his feet, and led him out of the grand tent and out onto the dirt, and the once more into a smaller tent that smelled of flowers.

By the dark hour, Kelsa led him back into the commander’s tent, wearing some parody of a woman’s dress. It was too short, and refused to cover his shoulders, and was tied with a sash that threatened to drop the whole thing to the floor at a tug. He wore dainty shoes, and his hair was tied up with baubles that she said were from her personal effects. She’d made up his face, and shaved his body smooth.

The commander looked him over, hungrily, and his smile gave away his approval. “It rather suits you,” he said, and the boy looked down at the floor, his cheeks red. “Now, pick that up.”

He gestured to the sword, still discarded on the floor. Carefully, the boy bent to pick it up, realizing that any extraneous movement would undo the sash. He held it in his hands as if he’d never held one before.

“My lord?” he said, confused.

“I’ve decided to give you one last chance, to atone for the… disgraces I’ve put you through. If you can cut me, no man will speak of this again. Now, come to me.”

This time, it sounded less like an order and more like an invitation. The boy took careful steps towards him, again, though for different reasons altogether. He made sure his hips held up the dress, and didn’t disturb the sash. With his movements restricted, he attempted a feeble lunge, and had the sword knocked out of his hands immediately after the commander drew his. 

“On your knees,” he said, though he didn’t bring the sword to his neck. The boy obeyed. “It is appropriate that you now do look like a woman, as you fight like one as well. Now, we will see if you will act like a woman.” Undoing his trousers, just as the man the night a day ago had done, he pulled free his erect manhood, which would have been more than a meal for any whore. The rumors, it seemed, were true.

He obeyed. "Now, again, which sword will it be? The steel or the flesh?" he said, first gesturing to the sword, and then to his terrifying turgid manhood, which was so stiff that it stood upright on its own, twitching menacingly, eager to feel the softness of the lips it was promised.

The boy recoiled, but kept his knees on the floor. "No matter how you dress me, I would... never..."

"So be it," the commander said, placing his sword on his tongue, "you die with honor."

"~ait, ~ait!" he cried, around the blade.

"What do you mean, 'wait'? If you'll 'never' swallow the other sword, we have nothing more to discuss. This is the choice you've made," he said, twisting the sword in his mouth, running it along his teeth. 

"~ell..." he said, and to let him speak, the commander withdrew the sword from his mouth. "Well... maybe there's some compromise we can make?"

"No, there isn't. Your lips, or your life. It's your choice." He looked down at the boy and shrugged his shoulders.

"You have a whore. Why not get a b... b-blowjob from her?"

"I will, as soon as I've wiped the blood from my sword," he said, bluntly. "A blowjob from her is worth its market value in coin. A blowjob from one such as yourself... there's no price for that. Unless there's something I'm not aware of?"

"No! There's no price. I would never..."

"Never?" he said, raising an eyebrow, slapping the boy’s cheek with the sword.

"Well... in any other case..."

"And how about this case?"

"This... case?"

"Yes. Would you, in this case, swallow a sword? Think carefully now about your answer; this is your last chance."

"It's... possible..."

"Oh? Under what circumstances? "

"What?"

"You say you would, but you won't. You admit that you would, so what is your hesitation? There’s no one else in this tent. It will be our secret. What more could you want?"

"I... can't..."

"You'll learn. Now, I'm done with this conversation. You will, or you won't."

The commander took a step forward, so that his cock was nearly lying across the boy’s face. The boy’s knees were on the mat, hands on his knees, and slowly, ever so slowly, his lips parted, and his mouth opened, revealing to the commander where he could put his aching manhood. The commander, however, remained still. He opened wider, and stuck out his tongue, and looked up at the man who was about to put it in his mouth. He realized he must have looked absurd, on his knees, mouth wide open in front of a throbbing hard-on.  
Of course, the commander’s command had not been to open his mouth, but to swallow. He watched the boy, grinning, a malicious glint in his eye, but he made no motion of his own, but for the unsteady pulsing of his sword of flesh. Slowly, gingerly, the boy eased his shoulders forward, bring his open mouth ever closer to his meaty punishment. His lips quivered, unsure about the whole prospect, and he remembered the whore said it was customary to kiss it first, but he couldn’t possibly do that. He closed his mouth, feeling silly, but before he pulled away, he saw the look on the commander’s face and instead pushed himself farther forward. If he tilted his head down, it would rest on his nose, and out of curiosity he sniffed at it to test its scent, and decided it was better if he didn’t. He recognized the smell underneath the flowery scent of the pleasure tent. He picked his head up again, and came face to face with it. Without thinking, he nudged himself forward for an instant, and in that instant pressed his lips gingerly against it, pursed them together, and gave it a kiss. With that duty done, he looked up at the commander, who was pleased by it, but was still clearly awaiting something. Again, with great hesitation, he parted his lips, and opened his mouth, and looked up at his tormentor. With a deep breath, he swallowed his pride, and prepared to swallow something else entirely.

He pushed his shoulders forward at a very slow pace, and felt the salty meat slipping past his lips, and the first tear fell as the tip worked its way into his mouth, penetrating it. He looked up when the commander moaned, but the commander made no attempt to move on his own as the boy urged his shoulders forward and took it into his mouth. It was difficult for the boy to fit his mouth around it so he eased his lips over it, gobbling it up inch by inch, his hands on his knees and his weight falling forward onto the upright cock. Soon, about half of it was inside of his mouth, and that was as far as it could go. He pulled back, looking up for the commander’s approval, and nursed on the shaft with his lips as he did, until he had nearly pulled free. Then, with a blush and a muffled sigh, he pushed his shoulders forward again, and let his tongue touch the underside, as he grew too tired to hold it down.

The absurdity of having a man's cock in his face made him feel as if it weren't even happening to him, as if he were looking down on it all from somewhere else in the room. The commander had dropped his sword, so the threat wasn't directly there... and yet there he was, on his knees, pleasuring the commander with his mouth like a woman. Everywhere it touched his lips it felt wrong, too hot and too sticky.

His head moved back and forth slowly and quietly as his lips slipped and sucked up and down the shaft, and his tongue slid and flicked along the underside, its tip tingling with the salty, strong flavor. The room was totally silent and mostly still, and it seemed impossible to him that he could be doing such a terrible, monumental thing and it sounded like nothing was happening. 

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of gliding it up into his mouth, the commander started to urge his own hips forward on the downstroke. The boy made no mention of it; his task was to pleasure the commander with his mouth, not question the commander’s peculiar tastes. He found that if he ran his tongue over the tip, he would be very appreciative at first, but quickly grow restless, wanting to feel the sensation of the lips running up and down his shaft, suckling and sucking on it. The taste in the boy’s mouth was awful, sweat and precum and whatever else, but he knew better than to complain. He opened his mouth and let the commander sheathe his sword in it over and over again, and he knew he had no other choice.

The commander took advantage of that. On one otherwise ‘normal’ downstroke, he took hold of the boy’s head and forced it forward, guiding his cock down his throat in one smooth motion, penetrating it painfully, gagging him in the process. He held it there until the boy almost started to beat on his abdomen with his fists, and then relented, letting him pull it out of his aching throat with a sickly sound. He waited for the poor boy to get his meaning, and then he dutifully pushed his head forward into the man’s crotch. He was leaning all the way forward now, with his hands on his knees, so that if the commander’s body wasn’t there to stop him, he would fall forward. He angled his neck so that the cock could slide down unimpeded into his throat, but he didn’t give the commander much time down there, and withdrew after only a second or two of deepthroating. He repeatedly forced himself forward and the cock down his throat, and soon the only sound in the room was him choking it down, earning his life one hot tear at a time. He looked up as he took it into his mouth and his throat with hateful eyes, but if the commander took umbrage with his defiance, he didn’t say it. He seemed to be taking some sort of sick pleasure in watching the boy choke down his manmeat, and probably no small amount of pleasure in feeling the boy’s soft lips, which he had done so much to protect, defiled by his salty, rigid manhood.

Suddenly, he pulled it totally free of his mouth, and the boy idly followed him for a second before realizing what he was doing. He coughed and sputtered now that it was free of his throat and mouth, and looked up at his master to see what he was planning. The taste lingered, as he knew it would, and his throat and lips were sore, proof that he wasn’t dreaming, that his mouth was no longer virgin and that a man had laid claim to his gullet.

"How shameless a display. I never thought that even you would be so dishonorable. Still... it is not too late. I'll give you once more a choice. Which will it be?"

Just like that, he was sucking once more. The commander reacted smugly as the boy earnestly threw his face forward into his crotch. The commander placed his hand on the boy’s head and let him work tube with his mouth, setting the pace for him but letting him carry out the work. The boy’s lower lip slapped against his balls, and knew that within boiled his seed, and that enough stimulation would fool it into thinking that he’d found a willing woman.

The commander seemed to know what he was thinking. "To take a man's seed in your mouth... even you would not be so low. I'll give you one last chance. Which will it be?" he said, pulling free so he could reply.

The boy looked up at him with scorn. "Don't make me say it."

"Don't make you say what? That you're ready to die?"

"No..."

"Then what?"

"Your seed, your cock, what does it matter? I offered you my mouth. You wanted a blowjob. I'm not so naive that I don't know what that involves."

"So, in other words...?" 

"I'm... thirsty. There's no shame in that."

"No... no shame indeed."

He didn't react as the commander shoved his cock back into his mouth. Though he put up a brave front, he'd hoped that the commander had gotten cold feet, and that he'd have mercy at last. But he wasn't about to feed him mercy.

"It's not just one blowjob, by the way," he said, thrusting into his mouth. "This will now be how you service me whenever I ask it of you. "You're to be my concubine for as long as I desire. You will kneel before me every day, until your lips are raw and your pride is broken. And if you defy me, or try to run, I'll once again give you a choice between death and defilement. If you once again fall to your knees, it will be facing the other direction, and I will use you like a woman and bring shame upon your name. Am I understood?"

He nodded, mouth still full. He wasn't in a position to object. The commander would get bored of the conquest eventually. It was one thing to defile his mouth once; it would lose its luster a second time. Or so he hoped.

The commander continued to thrust, and his cock began to twitch and pulse more and more. He braced himself for what was to come, but suddenly, the commander stopped mid-thrust, and his cock, though still jerking in his mouth, didn’t tense up in preparation. They sat still for a moment, until he realized what the commander wanted him to do. Ever so slowly, he started to push his shoulders back and forth, drawing his lips slowly along the shaft, suckling all the while. He sucked on the pole in his mouth so strongly that soon it sounded as if the slurping in the room was someone messily eating soup. He slurped and slurped, and the cock in his mouth grew harder and tenser, until he was certain it was about to bathe his tongue in semen, but the deluge didn’t come. He was thankful for that much, but the commander wasn’t satisfied, so he kept sucking. His neck grew tired, and so with great reluctance he grasped his hand around the base of it, and started to pump up and down the shaft that wasn’t in his mouth, remaining still. At first, he thought the commander approved, as his face lit up, and his cock got stiff as stone. The boy kept working his hand, trying to milk it out against his best interests, and for a moment he thought the commander was going to feed him his rations, but before the twitching in his cock spewed forth its gooey payload, the commander wrenched the boy’s hand off, and that was that. The message was clear: he’d asked for lips, not fingers.

The boy looked up into the face of his tormentor, then back down at the length of the shaft. He focused on it while he moved subtly, his shoulders barely moving at all as he worked his lips up and down a small portion towards the center of the shaft. He sucked strongly, and placed his lips on the shaft only as he pulled it down. The commander grew harder and harder, until the boy understood; he wasn’t going to finish defiling his mouth with a bang, but with a whimper, so there was no confusion for either of them what had taken place.

Once more, he suckled on the cock for what may have been the thousandth time, and just like that, without any warning, fanfare, or mercy, a man’s seed filled his mouth without pretense, coating his teeth and his tongue. It tasted like snot and defeat, and he milked the cock for more of it until the commander’s balls were empty and it his lips were dribbling. The soup in his mouth wasn’t nourishing, he knew, but he knew he wouldn’t feel hungry all the same. He remained still while the man that called himself his leader and had vowed to protect him blew a sticky, creamy wad in his mouth, neither of them moving at all. Whores would dream of the feeding that took place, as the commander was so overstimulated he emptied everything he had in spurts and pulses, while the boy’s soft lips were wrapped around him.

When he finished, the boy immediately spit the milky, bitter contents of his mouth onto the floor. He was nearly sick when he saw that much there was.

“That’s the last time you spit out my gift. You’ll sleep in Kelsa’s tent from now on. Once the war is done, you’ll be free of my service, just like all the others. Until then, I believe you know what your duty is. Don’t forget it,” he said, putting his cock away. “You are dismissed.”

“Will… the other men…?”

“Kelsa will spread the word that you are mine to torment. No one else will touch you. Now go.” 

Without hesitation, he stood to his feet, thought better of saluting, and slinked away back to the pleasure tent. He slept there, and when he woke, he learned from Kelsa that the commander had summoned him. That first day he might not have known way, but with each passing day, he was more and more sure what the commander’s summon meant.


	2. Ai

The commander was true to his word, and no men touched the young boy that had tried to desert, except for the commander himself, of course. She never quite got the taste of his semen out of her mouth, and every meal was a discovery, finding out how a given food tasted if you still had a spermy aftertaste on your tongue. 

One day he spent the better part of the morning between the commanders legs, sucking and sucking and sucking, until her lips were sore and she was almost bored of the pole in her mouth. She looked up at the commander, whose face showed more pity than lust. “Savor the taste” was what he said, before going back to his duties, looking over maps and reading the latest terms of peace. She realized that he intended to have her sucking all day, “savoring” his taste and servicing his shaft with her mouth like she had nothing better to do than to suck on his pole. In her anger, she forced her face into his crotch, shoving it down her own throat, and then she savagely swallowed it over and over again, ignoring the tears in her eyes, intent on making him cum earlier than he intended so that she’d be free for the rest of the day and he’d not have his petty victory over her. She sucked eagerly and ran her hand smoothly over the shaft while she bobbed her head quickly back and forth, and every so often when she thought he’d gotten used to it she took her mouth off of it and tugged until his hands balled into fists, and then she took it into her mouth and facefucked herself with it in the hopes that he would blow in surprise. After the fourth time doing that, she decided instead to focus on the head, licking the tip and sucking on it with a pop each time, and just when she thought he couldn’t take anymore, she took it all the way down her throat, and then sucked the full length of the shaft until she was just barely kissing the tip, and she was certain he was going to fire it right between her puckered lips, and she even looked up at him with a sly smile (or as sly as a smile can get while a person is kissing the tip of a penis), but the mouth filling blast never came. In frustration, she took half of it into her mouth, and then began to suck as tightly as she could, with her hands on her knees, bobbing back and forth just like the first time she’d made him cum.

It was two hours later before the tears started to run hot down her cheeks, when she realized that she’d given him exactly what he wanted. Her lips couldn’t take it anymore, but she kept going anyway, shame filling her, just before he saw her tears and something else filled her. She continued to suck it halfway, milking it out as he ejaculated his thickest load yet into her deserving mouth. She suckled on the end as he fired between her lips, just as she imagined he would, until he grunted that he was finished and she sucked off the tip with a pop. She emptied her full cheeks down her throat, and then left his tent without a word, while he sat there with a smug, victorious grin.

When she got back to her tent, the whore’s tent, she cried into her pillow until she fell asleep, the sun still high in the sky, his cum still staining her teeth. Seemingly just to prove how foolish she’d been, she received a summons before nightfall, and because she’d tired herself out too much to do it properly, he did for her, pounding it into her face until the soreness in her lips and jaw were making her beg him to do what he needed to finish. He granted her wish, shoving his cock deep into her throat, blocking off her air. After a few seconds, she started to beat feebly with her fists on his thighs, and as her vision was darkening, just before it all went black, she felt the pressure in her belly, and she cursed him with her last conscious thought. When she woke up, cum was drooling from her lips, and she could taste it down her throat, all the way down to her upset stomach, which she knew was full of the stuff. She retched it all up onto his mat as vengeance, and then slinked away to her tent, where she promptly decided that enough was enough.

After weeks of servicing the commander, sometimes in the presence of other officers and dignitaries, “she’d” gotten ‘fed’ up, and had every intention of making this escape attempt a successful one. 

Under cover of darkness she slipped out of the tent, making sure that Kelsa was still sound asleep. She zig-zagged her way through the tents, careful to avoid being seen, and whenever she was seen, she pretended to be on her way to the commander’s tent. This proved successful until she was at the very perimeter of the camp, which meant that she only had to deal with the outriders and she’d be free. She doubted the commander would bother to send a hunting party after her, with the war’s end so close. She vowed to herself that she’d never have a belly full of his stuff again, and so she crawled out of the camp, slinking through bushes and underbrush, tearing her clothes as she did. The chill night air cooled her uncomfortably, but it proved to be a boon; cold soldiers are drunk soldiers. The sounds of their hooting and cheering and singing masked the sounds of her indiscreet stalking, and before long their voices were fading into the background. 

She could never tell when the outriders would appear, so she remained hidden, even long after anyone from the camp could possibly hear her. She had scratches on her arms from where she climbed through the underbrush, but otherwise she was unharmed. She thanked her fortune, as it was easy to catch an ankle and twist it in the woods at night, and she wouldn’t be able to explain where she’d been. She imagined the look on the commander’s face if she was caught again, and then she imagined the look on the commander’s face as she blew him silly, and then the look on her father’s face when he showed up to the camp and found his only son fellating the commander with such skill, and then the look on the commander’s face as he came in her mouth anyway. She couldn’t afford to be caught.

She heard the sound of something moving in the brush, and quickly hid beside a tree, crouching down on her knees, sticking her face out through a gap in the undergrowth to see if she could spot who was approaching. Sure enough, it was Ward, mounted as he always was. She got a glimpse of his face, and then pulled back, not wanting him to spot hers. He looked around, and then seemed to stare right at her, but a second later he’d looked away, and it was clear he hadn’t seen her. He looked around, turning his horse in place for a bit, before finally he dismounted, dropping to his feet. She realized with horror that he had been looking for a place to “relieve” himself, and the horror was only compounded when he started to walk towards where she was. Just like that, he pulled himself from his britches, and aimed right into the hole in the brush where she was. She braced herself, knowing the slightest noise would alert him to her presence, but nothing came. And then, she saw it.

He was fully, stiffly erect. He’d stuck his cock into the hole in the brush, but after that, he just stood there, like he was waiting for something. Finally, she heard someone else’s voice.  
“Ward? Why’re you off your horse? You see something?”

It was Stal’s voice. Ward replied. “Not sure. Thought I saw something, but it might have just been a forest spirit.”

She heard Stal laughing. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll grant three wishes. I’ll keep mounted, you investigate.”

“Will do,” Ward called back. And then everything was still again. She stared at his cock. It wasn’t as big as the commander’s overall, but it did seem a little longer. It curved downwards at the end, like a big hooked fruit growing in the bush. After a few more seconds of waiting, Ward called out again. “There was definitely something suspicious over here. I’m going to keep looking until I’m satisfied.”

Stal harrumphed. “Well, be quick about it.”

Her mind raced. What was happening. She heard Ward take a deep breath, and then he called out. “Found—”

Her lips closed around it, and Ward hushed up.

“You find something?” called Stal.

“Thought I did. Maybe just a forest spirit after all, though. Can’t tell yet.”

At that, she started to suckle on it, and then move her shoulders forward, taking more of him in between her lips.

“Would you stop messing around?” said Stal, and it sounded like he was trotting around impatiently.

“Yeah, just give me a minute. I need to drain the snake.” 

She knew what she had to do. She started to suck on it, though Ward didn’t seem to show any response. He had to know what was happening by now, she knew, and that thought filled her with shame. She went to work applying the skills she’d learned to his dick, but had a difficult time at it on account of the length. 

“If I give the signal, you come running over here, okay?” he said, and she knew that he was threatening her. Stal called back a dismissive affirmation, but she immediately threw her mouth forward until it popped sorely into her throat. She gagged.

“What was that?” called Stal.

“Just not feeling well.” She knew that was a lie. He was feeling very well. She repeatedly choked herself on it, coating him in saliva and throat slime soon enough. 

“Will you hurry up?”

“Almost… finished!” he moaned back. She sucked and sucked, hidden in the underbrush, until she got to the creamy filling of the mystery fruit. Ward just about roared as she sucked it out of him, and she swallowed dutifully, having secured her freedom.

Stal’s voice grew nearer. “What are you doing?”

“Getting sucked off by the commander’s whore. Found her hiding here. Let’s take her back.”

Just like that, she was dragged out of the bush, thrown onto the back of a horse, and brought all the way back to the commander’s tent, where she was dumped unceremoniously on the mat by her two twice-captors. 

The commander looked calm, but his eyes were aflame. “Kelsa! Come here.”

Kelsa appeared a few seconds later at the entrance to the tent. “Yes?”

“She’s tried to escape. Bathe her; she’s filthy. And employ the brand.”

Kelsa looked at her sympathetically. “Is that…?”

“Do it, or it will be you instead,” he said, and turned away, as if to say that he was done with either of them. Ward and Stal went to leave, but he told them to stay. Kelsa took her by the hand and led her out of the tent, and away towards the baths. 

While having her bathed, in total silence, Kelsa stopped a passing soldier and told him to convey a message. After the bath, a different soldier entered the tent, casting only a cursory glance at the naked whore stepping out of the water. He had something in his hand, and she nearly ran out of the tent, naked as the day she was born, when she saw what it was, but Kelsa held tightly onto her arm. She was stronger than expected.

“I’ll hold her. Douse that in the bathwater first. He never said it had to be a particularly dark brand.”

“No, no!” she cried out, trying to break Kelsa’s grasp, but Kelsa slapped her hard across the face.

“You will regret it if you move, especially if he misses and we have to do this again. The commander wants to ensure that you don’t run again. If it was up to him, I’m sure he would brand your face or wrist. I have an alternative that will spare you wandering eyes… and the commander is sure not to object.” Kelsa sounded kind enough, but she knew it was just a ruse to keep her calm. She refused to be calm. She panted and dug her heels into the floor, and Kelsa slapped her again. “Endure this. Be brave,” she said.

The hissing sound of the brand being doused in the water wasn’t reassuring. The twice-deserter was bent over the rim of the bathing barrel, and gave only a token resistance as Kelsa held in her place. The faceless, nameless soldier that some boy had served with lined up the brand with her left cheek, and waited for Kelsa’s signal. Kelsa tore off her sleeve, and then stuffed the cloth into her young trainees’ mouth.

“Bite down on it. It will muffle the scream.”

Kelsa nodded to the man, and the young girl braced herself. The brand cut through the air, and then pressed hard into her naked flesh, and her vision went white. Her teeth tore into the brand and she screamed an obstructed scream. She tried to writhe violently, but Kelsa expected it, and held down onto her shoulders. Even with her legs flailing beneath her, the brander kept his brand steady. She had thought that it would be a quick process, but the brand was held to her skin for what felt like hours, as tears poured down her cheeks and she wished that she could take it all back; back to that night, where she would have gladly sucked fifty cocks if it meant not sucking the same one fifty times, and then being thrown over a barrel and… branded.

She feared far worse punishment. With the mark still cooling on her skin, Kelsa brought her before the commander, dressed and bathed. When they entered the tent, they noticed that many of the commander’s immediate subordinates, as well as a number of others that she didn’t recognize, were all standing about, conversing idly. 

“Show me proof of the mark,” he said, and all the conversation ceased. Kelsa took her hand, brought her forward, and then urged her to turn around and drop to her knees. Then, she put her hand gently in the small of her back, and urged her forward, until she fell onto her hands. Kelsa gingerly lifted the back of her dress up, until her backside was exposed.

The commander came up behind her, and drew his sword. He touched the tip to her rear entrance, and there was a small murmur from the attendant crowd.

"Well? A dishonorable death, or a dishonorable life?"

She had hoped beyond hope that her punishment was the branding, but she knew now it wasn’t true. She looked back at him, a plea for mercy in her eyes, but she realized she would only receive it if she played her part. She took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Would you kill a woman?" she said, her voice wavering. He harrumphed, and she took that for his approval. Now that she’d made her choice in front of everyone, he wouldn’t need them to watch what followed.

"...as I thought. You truly are a coward. But a coward with pride... if not for your pride, you wouldn't have tried to run. A good punishment does justice, yes, but a good punishment also deters the sin that it punishes. You have too much pride... it is well past time that I should destroy it."

"Please..."

"A woman should not speak until required to do so. You have already begged for your forgiveness. You have already begged for your life, twice now. I have granted that much. You may continue to beg, if it calms your trembling heart, but you must not move. You have made your choice."

"Pl... please..."

He turned, and walked away, and then returned with the oil he used for lubricating his sheathe. He poured it over his backside, until the bottle was empty.

"You begged me to sheathe my sword. And now, I shall. From this day forth, your name is 'Ai.' Do you object? Am I to sheathe the wrong sword?"

"N-no..."

"No?"

"No... it's... the right sword..."

"And is this a sword sheathe?"

"Y... yes... it's Ai's... sheathe..."

"And with this, the son of some great unnamed warrior, has become Ai, daughter of  
sin, Sheathe for All Swords. This hole will one day be famous, and the name Ai Swordsheathe will be infamous. Your old name... is gone."

"Please... please, no! I won't run! I swear!" 

“You won’t,” he said, and Ai realized that he had already disrobed. Kelsa stroked her hair, told her to be brave, and then left the tent, leaving Ai with the commander and his attendees. Ai felt the commander press something to her exposed, moist sheathe-hole, and the panic set in.

The crowd bore silent witness as the commander eased his hips forward, and Ai scratched at the mat, but true to her word, she didn't try to escape. Slowly, he sheathed his sword in Ai, who grunted and swore and begged and cried fat tears and pleaded for forgiveness, whipping her head from side to side so that her hair flew after her and crying "nooo!", but remained on her hands and knees, in prime position to be anally penetrated. And anally penetrated she was, her virgin rear stuffed slowly, but surely, until his hips rested softly against her bare, oiled cheeks. He rested his hands on her cheeks, a subtle affirming of her submission, and tapped her lightly on the rear. Ai dropped her head to the mat, and stretched her arms out like a cat, sobbing to herself, but making no attempt to pull away.

"Ai, I was mistaken, you should be proud! No other woman offers such a close embrace, or such an affectionate caress!"

He pulled out slowly, and then pushed back just as slowly, once, twice, three times. He became deeply intrigued by the way her rectum clung to him and scratched and generally felt quite odd, and the way that the sweat poured down her cheeks as she struggled to take it. Quickly, he became infatuated ith this "Ai," and knew that he'd made the right choice in offering her mercy.

"Please!" she cried out, in between the grunts that the commander forced out of her, "I'm no woman!" Ai didn't dare make her claim in her earlier voice.

His blurred hand cut audibly through the air until it slapped into Ai's cheek, sounded like a firecracker. He pushed as deeply into her guts as he could allow and held it there, and then slapped her cheek again, leaving a bright red hand-print. Ai sobbed loudly, her fingers tearing into the mat.

"Are you trying to shame me? I am well aware what you are," he said, sternly. "But you believe you are a woman, and so act accordingly. Was I wrong to give you mercy? Will you have the blade after all?"

"No! Please... continue... enjoy Ai's hole..."

"I intend to," he said, and pulled out a ways again. "Now pick yourself up."

Ai did, climbing back onto her hands again, and he began to push into her again. He settled into a rhythm, pumping it halfway in and then out again, and Ai began to whimper about her lost pride, and her lost anal virginity. There was no turning back, now. Everyone had seen Ai's humiliation, as she offered her backdoor to a man for mercy. No one would accept a catamite... except the commander, who had use for a boy whose hole was a sheathe for "swords." And the proof of that was dripping between her legs; the oil being forced out of her abused orifice, and the precum that was being milked so tenderly and involuntarily by her anus, which couldn’t get used to the shape of her invader and so suffered for it. 

A week ago he would have never believed that he'd be on his hands and knees, with the commander behind him, "using him as a woman," which for the commander meant pounding his cock into his hole, while he passively received it, crying and begging and moaning, dressed as a woman, pretending that he had a woman's name ; that he was a woman, for the commander’s benefit. "Ai" knew that the commander wasn't doing this ONLY as punishment, or to prevent her from running away again, but because he wanted a warm, tight hole, and Ai couldn't afford to deny him one.

She looked up, her face a mask of shame and discomfort, tears in her eyes, at some of her audience, many of which were speaking, murmuring to one another about the beautiful, fair, youthful girl before them, but some of which were silent, stone-faced, judging her with their eyes. She'd seen serving girls shamed like this before, but even they had the fortune to have a proper "sheathe." Ai was facing forward, but so was her tormentor, behind her, sheathing his sword in her ass, over and over again. With her long, black hair framing her face, it could have been any of the girls she'd seen... but it was her, her butt being violated, her only hole repurposed. 

He had one hand on her ass, and one on her head, pulling her body, and, therefore, her anus, onto and around his cock. Ai was being dominated, and no matter how much butt-frustration she suffered, she couldn’t do anything but let him push her body back and forth, sodomizing her in a most casual way. She dribbled precum onto the mat, and there was nothing she could do to stop her body from betraying her. She wiggled her hips, but it did nothing to slow the cock in her butt from pumping in and out, brutalizing her backdoor. He had his hand resting on her head as he stuffed more and more of it into her bowels, which Ai knew meant more and more of her pipe was feeling his rectal rooter, and less and less of it belonged to her. She broke down into sobs feeling his fingers on her hair and his snake burrowing itself into her burrow inch by inch. The commander tried to “reassure” her by stroking her head, but that only made her cry more, so he placed both hands on her rump, spread her cheeks, and continued to stuff his sausage in her battered fun tunnel.

He continued to hump her with his hands on her cheeks, taking no small amount of pleasure from her obvious discomfort. Ai's "pride" didn't stop her from begging him to go easy on her, easy on her poor, virgin butt, and eventually, the commander responded.

"Now, now... this wouldn't be happening if you hadn't tried to run. I did tell you what would happen if you did, did I not?"

"...y-yes..."

"And you tried to anyway, did you not?" he said, thrusting deep inside of her for a moment to make her yelp, and to remind her why that had been a bad decision.

"...yes..."

"Did you think I was bluffing? Answer me honestly, girl," he said, tracing his fingers along the edges of the sore “tattoo” on her cheek.

"Yes..."

"Was I bluffing?" he said, pulling it out all the way so that only the tip was inside, and then holding Ai's cheek to the side while he slowly fed it in, letting her feel the whole length inch by inch.

"No-hooo..." Ai sung back, sobbing while she moaned.

"And how can you tell?" he said, continuing his slow, physical torture to accompany his mental one.

"Because... because... I can feel it... in my hole..."

"Feel what in your hole?" he said, pulling it out slowly, making her claw at the mat. 

"Your... your..." Ai stammered, but couldn't say it, so he drove it into her quickly. She groaned, and the word fell out of her mouth like he'd forced it out. "Diiiicckk..." she sighed, and dragged out as he dragged himself slowly out of Ai's back passage. Ai was already stiff, but the sensation made her painfully frustrated.

"And why have I defiled your hole, girl?" he said, feeding it back in slowly.

"Because you said you would... use me as a woman... and I can only be used... one way..."

"That's correct. My apologies... I said I would take you as a woman, and here I am savaging you like a bitch. Here, give me your hand," he said, and Ai obliged, reaching backward as he bounced her to and fro on his cock. He pulled her arm backwards, rearing her up, and then grabbed her other wrist all while continuing to violate her ass. Ai fell forward, her face nearly crashing into the floor, but he held her by her wrists, pulling her torso upward, so that she levelled out, her back perpendicular to his, and then Ai's true purpose began. Her pushed into her soft, tender, unyielding bowels, until he was buried to the hilt, and her head hung low. He had spread her arms to the side, his fingers digging into her wrists  
as he held up her weight with them, and with his cock sheathed fully, her hole spasmed around him. He held back her arms while he drilled into her rear, forcing grunts and gasps out of her, and her hair fell around her face, her eyes alternately shocked and listless. 

The sounds of slapping and suction filled the air, as Ai's sheathe refused to give up the commander's sword, in spite of the oil. Each thrust was as devastating as the last, and every one ended somewhere deep inside Ai's colon. She spread her knees further apart to relieve some of the stress, but it was simply too much for her. She moaned and her stiffy bobbed painfully below her, unsupported, and she cried out. She knew she couldn't handle more than once of this sort of ordeal.

"Please, just this once.... I'll give you my mouth from now on, and won't run away... just let this be my punishment..."

“Very well, then. Make this one count.

“How?”

“Play your part, act like the kind of woman that would do this.”

And so Ai showed him a lusty face and begged for more, even though when she wasn’t facing him, she grit her teeth and scowled. He let her hands go, and she caught them underneath her, so that her arms were directly beneath her, her head was up, and she was giving her audience a scornful look, and her knees were spread, so that the commander could hump it into her ass as hard as he wished, forcing open her abused asshole for his pleasure and her shame. There was no affection in his touch as he grabbed hold of Ai’s shoulders, or in the way that he “using” her hole, only an animal mating that served to put Ai in her new place. She called back to him with a sweet voice about how good it felt, but she held her head up with the last of her pride, even as her tormentor held tightly onto her shoulders and shoved his cock so far up her asshole she bit her lip.

The suction of her taut colon on his slick, thick pole, and the wetness of the oil and his precum, was making a naughty, undignified noise. Even without the visual proof, it was obvious that he was reaming her tight asspipe for all it was worth, which wasn’t much, by that point. The pain in her butt was absolutely nothing next to the shame, the shame of feeling a man’s pubic hair on her cheeks, of being used anally for his pleasure, of asking him to finish inside of her like a lover, when he thought nothing more of “Ai” than as a warm, tight, unwilling hole. Her own cock flapped underneath her uselessly, shamefully, painfully erect and unused, and her toes pointed, whether from the pain in her ass or the urge in her bowels, she wasn’t sure. 

The commander groaned, and slapped Ai’s brand, making her yelp. “Urgh… I’m going to…!” 

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized what he was about to do. She wouldn’t let him see her face. "G-go ah-h-head! F-fill u-up my b-b-butt! T-that's what it's f-for!"

“Now, and forever!” he said, slamming his hips into her cheeks, making a rather extravagant display for their audience so that they would know what Ai was receiving. She grimaced and scowled, but when he pulled on her shoulder so she’d face him, so showed him a mask of lust.

He withdrew summarily, dispassionately. Oil and cum poured from her abused hole, swollen and red. Ai sobbed as she said “th-thank you…”

“Now, now... that's the Ai that I spared... what superb pillow talk. Let's hope that you don't lapse into that prideful creature you were before..."

"But... you said... just this once..." she said, despairing.

"I said anything to calm your heart, dear. Women are fragile things. Now... if you're good and obedient, you can speak freely, as if you still had your pride. Until I give you such permission... Ai has a rather dirty mouth, and she so desperately desires to be used as a sheathe. Am I understood?"

"N-n-no... p-please..."

"You can beg all you want once you've earned it. Another defiant word and it's the sword for you. Am I understood?"

She nodded.

“Summon Kelsa,” he said to one of his sycophants, and then he turned back to Ai. "Now, how was that?"

Ai's rear still felt sore, and itched. "I loved it," she said, forcing a smile. 

"Oh? Do you want some more...?"

Ai hesitated. "C-can I have some more?" she said, smiling tentatively, and she saw that Kelsa heard her as she re-entered the tent.

"Of course. But not from me, I'm satisfied. Ward, Stal, Ai is feeling desirous, still. Please escort her to your room use her as a woman, as you see fit. No harm is to come to her, so long as Ai remains Ai. Correct?" he said, looking at her, and she nodded, defeated, cum still dribbling down her thigh. "Now, Ai, is this what you wanted?" he said, and helped her to her feet, while Kelsa re-did her sash. 

"T-two swords...?"

"Hrm? Is two swords too many, girl? Would you prefer one?"

"N-no... two swords... that's not enough... for Ai..." she said, squirming.

"Two swords will be plenty. You'll be sore enough in the morning as is. Now run along with your handsome friends, Ai. Don't be afraid to let your passions get the better of you. I'm sure the town won't mind hearing exactly what's become of your beloved sheathe."

"No... of course they wouldn't... "

"You're being awfully timid, Ai. Are these men not to your taste? There are a few stallions that I'm sure wouldn't mind a broodmare..."

"N-no! Ward, Stal... would you... like to... f-f-f-f... FUCK me?"

"I'm sure they would, you naughty girl. Now... you're dismissed, gentleman."

Just like that, Stal lifted Ai into the air, and slung her over his shoulder. Every man they passed slapped her on the backside, including Stal himself, who took several playful swats at the rump on his shoulder. Ward walked a bit behind and watched her face, and she made eyes at him as best she could the whole way, in spite of his betrayal. She dreaded what they were going to do with her in their room, but she knew she had to play her part. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Stal dumped her on the bed, and Ward closed the door behind them, so that no one could look in on the proceedings.

But no one had to speculate as to what occurred within. Ai's voice filled the air, and she dutifully reported through stammers, moans, and squeals, exactly who was sheathing his sword and how at any given time. She sung songs about her poor abused butt for several hours into the night, until finally the noises came to a still, and Ai fell asleep in a puddle of love juices, utterly exhausted. She lost count herself, but that didn't spare her the following morning from hearing educated guesses about her and the two men's energetic lovemaking.


End file.
